


Sweet Release

by Kurai Himitsu (Taskuhecate)



Series: Broken Pieces [2]
Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2005-12-23
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14076798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taskuhecate/pseuds/Kurai%20Himitsu
Summary: One tragic event.  One life shattered forever.  Sometimes picking up the pieces isn't an option. Sometimes, the only way is release.





	1. Into the Pit

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Don't own, not making any money! (Old habits - it was a different time, kids.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Okay, this is the sequel to my fic, "Tourniquet". Let's see how many of you who read the last one guessed correctly who came in at the end!

"No!" Ayame's wide eyes stared for a moment before he ran to the dog and dragon. He fell to his knees beside them, his face white and panicked. "Shigure! Hatori! Dear gods, answer me!"

They didn't move and the acrid smell of blood wafted from the floor; Ayame could taste the bile in the back of his throat as the smell threatened to overcome his senses, but he pushed it aside. "Shigure, this isn't funny! Wake up!" he said, his voice pleading and desperate. "Hatori…please…don't do this to me!"

He hesitantly reached out, brushing his thin fingers down Shigure's white cheek. His skin was as cold as ice, Hatori's no better. "Gure-san…Tori-san…"

His wide golden eyes were stinging, the crystal stardrops already falling to shatter on the ground below the suns. "What…what have you done…?"

_Why have you left me…?_

"Why _…why!"_

He began to shake them, kissing the cold faces, hitting them in a frantic attempt, a dying hope, to prove they were still alive. " _Why!_ "

He buckled into himself, sobbing as he lay there, next to his dead companions, his life-friends, his only treasured ones. His hand hit something and he looked up, tears still streaming down his moon-white face. He pulled it to him, swallowing as he saw what it was, a lump lodging itself firmly in his throat, choking him, as his grip tightened on the handle of the bloodstained knife.

 _Why… What drove you to this…?_ He closed his eyes, holding the knife to his chest.  _Why didn't you tell me? I…I don't want to be alone… Come back!_

"SHIGURE! HATORI!" They couldn't hear him, no matter how loud he screamed. They were gone. He was alone. There was no one on which he could ever depend, ever love again. Nothing was left but Miine and the store. But what was that compared to what had been lost? "No…no…no…no…no!"

He moaned, his back arching, curling into himself, spidery hands clutching his skull, the knife still clutched in one hand. He felt sick, imagining an existence without the two he had depended on the most, loved the most. The pillars of his life were gone, there was no support left. He crumbled.

" _We'll always be waiting for you Aaya; we won't leave you, really. We're just waiting up ahead. Promise."_  The soft caressing smile of a ten-year-old boy, chocolate eyes laughing and reassuring, calming, now lost forever.

" _Yea Ayame, if we ever do leave, we're just up ahead, waiting. So don't waste time, all right? Hurry and catch up."_  Jade eyes, jaded eyes forever lost to him now.

The pain was too much; Ayame couldn't bear it. He took a shaking, ragged breath and looked again at the knife.  _I'm coming…wait a little longer Gure-san…Tori-san…just a moment longer…_

He went to the window, tears staining his cheeks as he gazed out at the woods; so peaceful, so unaware it was. He leaned against the frame, loosely holding the knife in his shaking hand, feeling empty and lost, running through woods with no path to guide him any longer. He sighed and returned to the two he had always thought would be there for him.

He sent a fleeting look at the dog and dragon as he poised the knife above his wrist, kneeling on the hard wood floor next to the cold pair. He looked back to his task. He could almost imagine the blue veins of his wrist throbbing, pulsing with the life he would soon cut short. He took a deep breath, preparing himself.  _I'm coming…_

" _Nii-san!_ "

The knife was ripped away from him before he could make that cut; the final barrier between him and his two treasured ones still stood. His face snapped up and gold and violet met, one wide, horrified as his had been before, the other sad, lost, alone, desperate for deliverance. "Yu…ki…"

"Nii-san!" gasped the rat, falling to his knees, the knife in his hand. "What happened…?"

The tears slipped across the smooth alabaster skin. "Gone… Tori-san…Gure-san…gone…"

Yuki swallowed. "But…but how…? Why?"

"They left… Alone… No!" He broke, shattered; the last of his strength drained, the pain all-consuming in its flames. He fell into startled arms; his body was wracked with sobs as he clung desperately to what he knew wasn't what he wanted, but still he held on. He was distraught, needing the touch, the reassurance that all wasn't lost.

Yuki, startled and surprised by the hysterical snake, drew back, eyes wide. Ayame was left to himself, his thin frame convulsing in sobs on the floor, hands clutching at the dog and dragon whimpering his mantra, "Don't go…don't go…wait for me!"

"Dear gods," muttered Yuki, scrambling to his feet and backing across the room to the black phone. The number he dialed was one he hadn't even thought of for over a year, if not longer.

"Hello?"

"Shihan!"

"Yuki? What is it?" asked Kazuma; the dojo master seemed startled.

"Please, Shihan, you have to come! It's Nii-san! Please, hurry!"

"I'll be right there…"

A click and a dial tone. The rat hung up, panting as he again turned to the snake writhing on the wooden floorboards. "Nii-san…"

"No…don't leave…please…"

Yuki swallowed; he'd never before heard the snake sound so longing, so pleading, and it was terrifying him. "Nii-san…please, help is on the way…everything will be all right…"

"NO!" shrieked Ayame, thrashing, his skull in a white-knuckled grip, his long nails drawing blood from his tender scalp. "IT WILL NEVER BE ALL RIGHT! THEY LEFT ME!"

Yuki chewed his lip, trying with all his willpower not to look at the dog or dragon, knowing that if he did, he would fall apart with the reality of it as well. He kneeled next to the shivering lump that was Ayame. "Nii-san…Nii-san…please… Please, Shihan is coming, he'll be here soon!"

"Gone! THEY'RE GONE!" Ayame's eyes were wild with grief and pain as he began to hyperventilate, his face becoming all the more pale as he stared, horrified, at the two bodies intertwined.

 _What do I do! WHAT DO I DO!_  Yuki's hands were shaking as he ran them through his hair, anxiously waiting for anyone to come, anyone to find them. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stay clam, how much longer he could hold it together.

"YUKI!"

The rat's eyes snapped up to the doorway. He hesitated, hastily grabbing the knife as an afterthought, before running out to the hall and into Kazuma's startled arms.

"Yuki! What's going on? Where's Ayame?"

Yuki gulped, trying to swallow around the lump lodged in his throat. "They're…they're dead!"

Kazuma's gray eyes narrowed. "Who's dead Yuki?"

"Hatori! And Shigure!" cried the rat. "Upstairs, in Shigure's study!"

Kazuma frowned and glanced toward the room the rat had indicated. "Stay here." He ran to the room, leaving the shocked boy in the hall. He threw open the door to see Ayame, shaking with sobs on the hardwood floor, clinging to the stone-cold bodies of Hatori and Shigure.

"Good God…"

Kazuma swallowed and went to the snake, knowing at once there was nothing he could do for the dog or dragon. "Ayame-kun," he said softly, resting a comforting hand on the distraught man's shoulder. "Ayame-kun, please, everything's going to be all right, it'll be all right…"

"GET AWAY FROM ME," screeched the snake, jerking out of reach, eyes wide and feral, rolling their sockets. He hugged himself, rocking back and forth, eyes wide and shocked as they scanned the room, lingering on the bloodstains and the two cold bodies. "Stay away…"

Kazuma watched, his heart breaking for the snake. "Ayame-kun…you can't help them…come on…let's get you out of here…"

"No!" hissed Ayame, drawing away from the dojo master. "I won't leave them!"

"Ayame-kun, they're dead," he said softly. "Let them go…"

The snake's eyes were pleading, confused, terrified, as they stared back at Kazuma's gray ones. "No…no…Gure-san…Tori-san," he choked slightly, "They can't be gone…they  _can't_  be!"

Kazuma sighed, his eyes closed as he pulled the snake to him, enveloping the shaking body. "I'm so sorry Ayame-kun…I'm so sorry…"

Tears were streaming from the cracked golden suns, the thin hands gripping the dojo master's kimono in an iron grip. "No… No…"

Kazuma bit his lip hesitantly before sliding his hand up from the trembling man's shoulders to the side of his neck, putting pressure on the pressure point there and holding Ayame to him as the snake lost consciousness, his body going limp in Kazuma's arms. The dojo master sighed and gathered the snake up, bridal-style, and finally escaped the eerie, blood-soaked room.

"Shihan?"

He looked over to see the rat's wide and questioning violet eyes. "Yuki…call…call…"  _Call whom? Hatori's gone…as well as Shigure… Who do we look to now?_

"Kana…"

Kazuma looked up. "Kana," he whispered.  _Hatori-kun's Kana…_  "Yes, Kana. Call the dojo as well, tell Kunimitsu to inform Akito of what has happened…"

Yuki nodded dazedly and left to do as he was told. Kazuma sighed, looking toward the ceiling and holding the unconscious man closer to his chest.  _Shigure…Hatori…why? Why?_

He looked down at Ayame's blank face, at the frowning and drawn mouth, the grimace of pain that came, not from being unconscious, but from the loss of everything he knew or had known.  _I'm sorry Ayame-kun… This should have never had happened to you…you didn't deserve to be deserted…little one…_

He shook his head, gray hair swaying, and began toward the nearest bedroom, Yuki's. Going inside, he laid the cataleptic snake on the soft white sheets of his brother's bed, pulling the downy comforter up to the silver-haired man's chin before smoothing back the wisps framing the man's pale face.  _Dear God…help him… Please…_

Kazuma sighed and quietly left the snake to whatever dreams the man might have, praying that were kind to him. He shut the door and went to find Yuki. By the time Kazuma found the rat, Yuki was standing stock-still at the window staring dazedly out at the woods, his left hand gripping the windowsill in a white-knuckled grip, the other still clutching the bloodied knife.

"Yuki." Kazuma's voice was soft as he tried desperately to keep the tremble from it. "Did you call Kana-kun? And Kunimitsu?" The rat nodded, not looking away from the gently swaying branches stirred by some unseen wind. "Yuki…please, say something…"

"…Why?"

The dojo master sighed wearily; he'd known the question was coming but he still had no answer for it. He'd asked the say thing when his own parents had died, as had Kyo when his mother committed suicide. "I…I honestly don't know Yuki…it could have been anything. But perhaps…perhaps it was love…"

"Love!" roared Yuki, spinning to face Kazuma, his violet eyes wide, livid, and frightened, " _Love?_  How is that  _love_?"

Kazuma shook his head. "You know as well as I that the Sohma family, for its cursed members, is more like a prison, a cage. You remember what happened with Kana-kun and Hatori-kun, don't you?" Yuki's eyes narrowed. "Shigure was there as well. He watched the entire scene and its aftermath unfold. He saw Hatori-kun sink into depression and he knew he could do nothing to help."

"That doesn't explain anything!"

"Ah, but it does," said Kazuma, pulling the boy to him, comforting him. "Perhaps Shigure-kun and Hatori-kun grew closer than they could have ever imagined… They knew their love would never be permitted by Akito-san. So, rather than pretend it never existed, they went somewhere Akito-san could never follow, never stop them, never hurt them…"

Yuki looked up at Kazuma, his violet eyes wondering. "But still…why? They didn't have to…kill themselves…"

"I know, Yuki," whispered Kazuma. "It's hard, I know, but please, there's nothing that can be done for them; Ayame is the one who needs us now…"

The rat swallowed. "Why did they leave him like that? He was about to join them when I found him…dear God, he almost…"

"Ssh," whispered Kazuma, rubbing the rat's back in an attempt to calm him. "He's fine now…we'll make sure he doesn't end up like Shigure-kun or Hatori-kun," he reassured, his voice trailing off. There was a knock on the door and Kazuma looked up. "Kana-kun…"

He gave the rat one last comforting look before going to the door; he opened it to a pair of worried liquid hazel eyes. Kana stood uneasily on the stoop, her eyes searching gray as she chewed her bottom lip. "Kazuma-san…"

"Come in."

Kana nodded and came in, glancing from side to side nervously. "What happened? Yuki-kun called, but he didn't say…"

"Shigure-kun…and Hatori-kun…they're dead…"

Hazel eyes widened and her lithe frame went rigid. "…What?" Yuki watched silently as Kazuma explained as calmly as he could to the young doctor what had happened before turning just as silently back to the window and the lonely forest. Kana swallowed dryly, disbelief clear in her voice when she finally spoke. "H-How?"

"Knife." A small gasp escaped her throat and her hand went to her trembling lips, the other fisted at her small breasts. "Suicide; they slit their wrists… I'm sorry to put this on you, Kana-kun, but there are no other Sohma doctors…"

She nodded, her eyes hazed and distant, her brow furrowed as some half-remembered scene floated to her mind.

_Blood…so much blood… Shattered shards of a vase scattered around a kneeling figure, blood dripping from his hands that covered his face; the red flowing sluggishly down his wrists and arms, staining the floor beneath him…_

"Kana-kun?"

Her face snapped once more to Kazuma's, the dojo instructor's features lit with concern. She nodded once. "Show me."

He nodded and turned, heading for the upstairs study that had served as the dog's private writing room. She followed, a disquieting sense of foreboding permeating the air around them, lighting her fragile nerves with fire. They paused at the door, Kazuma turning to regard her with sad and knowing gray eyes, eyes that knew something she did not. Before she could identify his look he turned away and quietly opened the door.

Her head began to pound and she hissed lightly in annoyance.

_Blood… Happiness gone… Loving emerald eyes and a kind smile… Something…something wrong… Something's wrong! But what? What can't I remember!_

She sighed and took a deep breath, preparing herself the sight ahead, the acrid smell already warning her of its gruesome outlook. She took the last few hesitant steps to the door, swallowing anxiously.

_Someone screaming… Salt water? Fresh water? Which was it!_

She was sweating she realized suddenly as a drop of the perspiration dripped off her small nose. She wiped it away hurriedly and chewed her lip, still too uneasy to take the last step and look inside.

" _Akito-san…Kana and I…we…we wish your permission to marry…"_

She gasped lightly and took the step. Her hazel eyes met the sight and something inside broke, collapsed in a torrent of lost reminiscences.

" _Kana-chan, hurry! Help Hatori…"_

"Kana-kun?" Kazuma's voice was distant, wispy like a long forgotten fog to her.

" _If Hatori goes blind, it's your fault! It's your fault! It's your fault! It's your fault! It's your fault!"_

She wasn't even aware of her knees hitting the rough floorboards as she fell to them, her eyes locked with her once-fiancé's cold face. "Oh God…"

" _Thank you…Kana…it's…all right now."_

"Hatori!"

" _There's…nothing there to hurt anymore."_

"Oh God,  _why?_ " The tears came, falling to the floor from hazel eyes. She sobbed into her hands as she stared unable to look away but unwilling to believe. Kazuma rubbed her back, trying to soothe her, understanding what she knew now, the secret he had helped to keep from her.

She took a deep and shaky breath, grasping to control her trembling. "Oh Hatori…why," she whispered as the dojo master helped her to her feet.

"Kana…are you all right?"

Her woolen sleeves were rough and not at all comforting as she wiped away her tears, breathing deeply and willing the rush of memories to stop, or at least slow. She swallowed dryly, her hazel eyes still wet with tears. "I…I'll be all right…I hope…"

"Kana-kun…you don't have to do this."

She glanced at Kazuma. "No. I'll be fine." A humorless smile curled her lips. "Besides, who else will if I won't?"

Kazuma didn't answer and she didn't wait for one. Her footfalls were light and hesitant as she crept toward the cold bodies she now remembered so well. She looked at Shigure first, feeling his cold neck for any sign of life to no avail. She could remember how he had always flirted with her while she prepared him for his checkup, how he'd joke and laugh with her, his chocolate eyes so jovial, his smile so teasing. She swallowed again.

Her eyes seemed to close of their own accord as she turned to Hatori's lifeless corpse. Her fingers lightly brushed down his cold cheek and a small whimper escaped her lips. She checked for a pulse, any life, any hope. There was none. A single tear fell to land softly on his cold cheek before running a slow course down the curve to the floor, leaving behind a silver starlit trail as though he had shed one last tear for her, for everything.

She could feel her eyes burn, the tears threatening to fall again.

" _Thank you…Kana…it's…all right now. There's…nothing there to hurt anymore."_

She took a breath and straightened, her hazel eyes clear but pained.  _Hatori…I'm still happy to have met you… And I will still forever and always miss you…_ She turned to Kazuma. "They're dead, both of them. No further examination is needed…"

The dojo master nodded. "Kana-kun…that's not all…"

"What?" She frowned.

He turned away, exiting to the hall, beckoning, "Come." She followed him as he led her down the hall to a closed door. She prayed for a bloodless room, that she wouldn't have to pronounce anyone else dead. Kazuma opened the door and Kana could see that the door led to a clean bedroom.

A small dresser sat in the corner next to a desk with a chair and an unlit lamp. The blinds on the window were closed and only a few lonely shafts of sunlight could illuminate the dim room. In the middle of the room was a bed and on it she could see only a mass of silver-white hair spilling over the pillows and covers, the person's face turned away from her in sleep.

"Kazuma?"

"Ayame."

Her hazel eyes widened. "You mean…"

"He was the first to find them," said Kazuma quietly. "Yuki said…Yuki said he tried to kill himself as well…"

Kana looked back at the sleeping man, a new light of pity in her liquid eyes.  _Ayame…_  She swallowed as she approached the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping snake.

She could see the man's face, it was drawn, pained, anguished; she softly, gently brushed her thin fingers across his hair, caressing his smooth cheek, a tear shimmering in her eyes for him. "Ayame-kun…

A small, frail whimper forced its way from the snake's throat as he curled inward, flinching at her touch. Silver hair blanketed his face as he shivered. Kana could do nothing for him as she watched, tears once again sliding down their paths to fall to the floor.

"Kana-kun?"

She turned to Kazuma. "Th-there's nothing I can do for him right now…not while he's asleep…"

* * *

TBC

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** That's it for the first chapter. I do so hope you…"liked" it, though I'm not sure it's the kind you actually "like"—more the kind that reminds you of a car wreck you can't tear your eyes away from. Oh well. You wanted a sequel. Now then, please, **_review!_**


	2. Oh, How the Thread Unwinds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Okay, this is the sequel to my fic, "Tourniquet". I'm glad you liked the first chapter so much, and I hope you continue to read this fic. Updates will be slow, I'm sorry to say: I'm pretty much on vacation right now. Just please, be patient with me.

" _Tori? Gure?"_

_The world was cold, bare and deserted. He half expected to see a tumbleweed roll by, like in those old American cartoons… He shook his head. "I'm being foolish! Where am I?"_

_Golden suns flashed in the dark as he turned to glance behind him. He was alone, frightfully alone. He'd never had a single dream that he could ever remember being alone in… Something wasn't right. Shigure, or even Hatori, should have been there. They did this every night, how was a mystery none of them could explain nor really cared to. It just was. But where were they?_

" _Tori? Are you there?" Again, no answer. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly, curiously dry. "Gure? Please, where are you?"_

_He was shivering now, cold in this expanse of emptiness, of nothingness… A small cry escaped his throat and he sank to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in them._

" _Please…I don't want to be alone…alone with the nothingness…please… **please!** "_

_No one answered. Somehow, he knew no one ever would._

He jolted upright, sweat shining on his thin face as his gaze darted around the room. He leaned back with a sigh.  _Just a dream then…_

He looked down at his hands and his heart stopped, his eyes widening in horror and shock as well as disbelief and denial. Blood covered the front of his kimono, a dark crimson, almost maroon, stain on the otherwise pristine white of the fabric.  _No…! **No!**  _The floor was cold as his bare feet slapped against the hard wood. He didn't even slow as he nearly collided into Yuki, the teen's startled violet eyes were all he saw before he all but tripped over his own feet, heading for Shigure's study.

"Nii-san…No!" he dimly heard Yuki yell, but he ignored it, his heart pounding in his ears.

_Gure-san… Tori-san…_

Before he could reach the door, strong hands clamped around his wrists, jerking him back. "NO! Let go of me!"

"Stop it Ayame-kun," snapped Kazuma from behind him. "There's nothing you can do…they're gone…"

"NO!" he screamed, eyes wide, glassy with tears. "NO! GURE! TORI!"

"Please Ayame!"

"LET GO," screeched Ayame. "TORI! GURE!"

"Not until you calm down!"

By now, Kana had emerged from Shigure's guest room, her liquid eyes worried and wide. "Kazuma…"

"Get the sedatives Kana-kun!"

Kana hesitated but one glance at Ayame told her there was no other choice: he was struggling wildly, hysterically, against the dojo master, his eyes crazed. She hurried to her bag. She fished franticly for the syringe she knew contained enough tranquilizer to keep the man dazed for five hours straight, her mind racing. She returned to the hall. Ayame was still flailing in Kazuma's arms as Yuki tried to help the dojo master subdue him. Kana swallowed. This would be a challenge, to administer the sedative without hurting him.

"Hold him still," she said, creeping closer, syringe in hand. Yuki, spotting the syringe, grabbed Ayame's left arm, forcing the limb against its owner's body, exposing the soft flesh where the vein was. Kana's eyes thanked him as she quickly slipped the needle through the skin and into the vein, emptying a fourth of its contents.

Ayame struggled all the harder once the needle was out but, slowly, the sedative began to take affect. Though Ayame never stopped fighting, the drug eventually won and soon he was nothing more than a limp pile at Kazuma's feet, his broken golden suns staring up pleadingly at Kana and the others.

She looked away, unable to meet that gaze…so broken…defeated…

Kazuma sighed wearily, crouching so he was level with the amber eyes. "Ayame-kun?" Ayame didn't answer; the only indication that he'd heard the man was a slow blink of his wide eyes. Kazuma pitied him but hid it well behind his gray eyes. "Ayame-kun, let's get you back to Yuki-kun's room…you need to rest."

Kazuma carefully helped Ayame to his feet, though the other man was wobbly and unsteady. Yuki just watched as his brother was led away to 'rest'.  _Not rest…confinement…_ thought Yuki bitterly.  _But…it's better than the alternative…_

"Yuki-kun."

The rat turned to see Kana, her profile bent and overwhelmed by some emotion. He said nothing, waiting for her to speak. He didn't have to wait much longer.

"Yuki-kun," she whispered. "Was…was H-Hatori…happy?"

"Some days," was the teen's short answer. "But I'm not sure he was depressed everyday either…I think he was somewhere in between."

She paused, letting his words sink in, before nodding. "Thank you… I believe…I shall go lie down…"

Yuki watched as she left, returning to the guest room to lie down. He sighed and made his way silently to the window in the living room, staring once more at the forest. That's where he was when Kazuma found him an hour later.

"Yuki?"

He didn't turn or answer.

"Yuki, please. I know this is hard, but I need your help right now." His voice was edged on pleading.

Yuki nodded slowly, tearing his eyes from the forest. "What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly.

Kazuma's eyes darkened as he noted the dead tone of the teen's voice. "I need you to try and be strong." Yuki stared, eyes clouded by the impossibility of that request. "Please Yuki. For Ayame's sake…"

Yuki looked back towards the forest—it was blood red with the last dying rays of the sun, reminding him of the bloodied room and the dead within it and the dying outside it. "Yes."

 

* * *

 

Ayame sat in a daze the rest of the day, hardly noticing anything inside the room or anyone coming to and from it. His only vision was bloodred. His mind was filled with a harsh, dry feel he couldn't shake.  _They were gone…_

He stared at Yuki as the teen came and sat at the edge of the bed. Golden eyes were still wide and lost; Yuki shivered; the emptiness he felt radiating from his brotherwas almost unbearable. "Nii-san, can you hear me?" Ayame gave no answer but Yuki knew he had heard. "Nii-san, I know this is hard—Hatori and Shigure have always been there—but you can pull through this, I'm sure. They would have wanted you to…"

Ayame looked away slowly, toward the window. "Go…go away…"

He blinked. "But Nii-san—"

"Go…"

Yuki stared. Ayame's profile was empty, blank, nothing like how it used to be. It hurt to see Ayame like that, so broken—Yuki wasn't sure it was possible to fix such a broken man if pieces were missing, and such large pieces at that. But he had to try. He'd promised Kazuma he would… "Nii-san, just talk to me."

"Yuki…why did…you stop me?" Golden eyes, so dim and lost, turned to stare at him again.

It threw the teen, to hear such a question, one he couldn't so readily answer. "I…I'm not sure—I didn't want you to die!"

"No." Silver fell into the golden eyes. "That's not it… That's not…true… Not…enough…"

Some horrible, unintelligible panic was rising in Yuki's chest, some need to escape, and he swallowed dryly, a taste of dust in his mouth. "Yes it is!" Ayame's baleful gaze lingered for a moment longer before turning away, back to window. It seemed an age before Yuki could focus and when he did he was surprised to find himself shaking; he swallowed. "Nii-san…please…"

"Go away…"

It ached. Yuki could see that it was no use; Ayame was far too gone to reason with—the shock was still too real, too close. However… "Nii-san, I don't want you to die—I didn't then, and I don't now!"

"No," whispered theghost of a mansoftly, his head tilting downward. "No…you were afraid…to let me join…my friends…"

It was unbearable now, the need to escape, the need to get out of that dead room. It occurred to him that Ayame was no more than a corpse, a cadaver that could somehow still move and talk and think, but wasn't really  _alive_. He felt sick. Yuki swallowed and got to his feet, shaking his head. "It's not true…"

The hall was empty with the doors shut; Kazuma had left for the estate earlier with the grim task of spreading the gruesome news to family members and of telling Shigure's parents, as Hatori had no longer had any. The funerals would have to be arranged, Yuki knew, but still he couldn't help but feel abandoned with the dojo master no longer near him. A door slammed in the entrance andYuki turned to see Kyou, angry and harsh, followed by Tohru timidly trying to calm him. Crimson eyes spotted him and Kyou rounded, glaring.

"You stupid rat!" growled Kyou, just short of yelling. "Why don't you call off your damn fan club! They've been following me around everywhere and it's getting annoying!"

"Kyou-kun, please," begged Tohru, her brown eyes wide and startled, "I'm sure it's wasn't Yuki-kun's fault."

He turned on her then. "Like hell!" His eyes widened, however, when he caught himself, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Yuki looked away; such normalcy seemed disrespectful, crude, and disgusting. Tohru noticed the gesture and frowned, her worry now focused on him. "Yuki-kun?" she asked. "Yuki-kun? Is something wrong?"

Kyou snorted. "His precious garden probably died on him. He's fine."

 _Ironic choice of an excuse..._ "Shigure…and Hatori…are dead."

Tohru gasped and Kyou's eyes snapped to his enemy, confused and alert. "What?"

"They're dead. They killed themselves." There was an empty silence as Tohru and Kyou stared, eyes wide. Kyou looked away first, shell-shocked and shaking as Tohru's eyes began to water and choke. Yuki swallowed. "Nii-san…Nii-san found them this morning. He's not well enough to leave yet and he needs to rest, so don't bother him."

As Yuki had been explaining, Tohru had slowly sunk to the floor, her turquoise eyes wide and disbelieving. "A-Ayame-san?" she murmured, looking up at Yuki. "He…found them?"

The violet-eyed teen nodded. "Don't go into the study—we're airing it out still." He turned and left, walking out the door and down the path without a single word of comfort to the girl. He only made it halfway down the path to his base before a familiar yell made him glance behind.

"You bastard! Get your ass back here!" It was Kyou, his eyes narrowed and his face red, stalking toward him.

Yuki merely looked at him. "Why?"

"Explain!" hissed Kyou. "And Tohru! You can't just tell her something like that and walk off without explaining! She's in hysterics!"

"I only told her the truth."

Kyou struggled to find words but there were none and he fell silent for a moment. He gritted his teeth and Yuki saw the fist long before it hit him but he didn't care. Kyou's punch sent sprawling into a tree on the roadside three feet away. He slumped against it with no intention of getting up. Kyou stood over him, glaring with angry tears. "Get up!" Yuki looked away, which only served to infuriate him. " _Get up!_ "

"No," snapped Yuki. "Just leave me alone!"

" _Get off your ass!_ " In seconds Kyou had grabbed the other boy by the collar and dragged him to his feet. "Stop being such a bastard and—"

" _Stop talking like you know what's going on!_ " Yuki shoved Kyou away and staggered back against the tree. "You weren't there, you didn't see their bodies—" Yuki was shaking now; his eyes were wide and terrified. "—You didn't see the blood…their faces… Or Nii-san…"

Yuki swallowed asKyou looked away, somewhat cowed. Silence, Yuki learned in the next minutes, could be painful, as painful as any physical wound. Kyou wetted his lips lightly. "I'd better…go take care of Tohru."

And then Yuki was alone again, and, for the first time, he truly felt it.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't hard to hear the sounds from the hallway in the guest room, and the voices of three teens—only one of whom she recognized as Yuki—reached her easily. She frowned as she heard the yelling and the slamming of a door. The only sound left in the hallway was the sound of a young girl whimpering; Kana chewed her lip for a moment before wiping the dried tears from her eyes and opening the door.

Down the hall a little ways, hazel eyes focused on the slumped and limp figure of a teenage girl. The girl, Kana could see, seemed as though she was in shock as she huddled against the wall and the doctor felt some emotion tug at her, pull her towards the teen. "Imouto-san?" she said quietly. "Imouto-san? Are you all right?"

The teen merely shuddered, swallowing, but not a single word passed the barrier of her trembling lips. Kana knelt next to her and brushed the tears from the girl's cheeks. "Imouto-san, can you tell me your name?"

A shaking hand grabbed the doctor's sleeve and mahogany eyes lifted themselves to plead. "Tohru… H-Honda…Honda Tohru…"

A small spasm shook the Tohru's slight frame and Kana could help but pull the girl closer. "It'll be all right. I know it hurts, and it probably always will... Oh dear," she sighed, her eyes damp again as she held the shaking Tohru, "I'm not helping, am I?"

Tohru managed a sniffle of a chuckle, but nothing more and it was weak, at best. They stayed that way for sometime, though how long it was, no one could say. In that time, however, Kana couldn't help but feel as though she'd known the girl for months, as though Tohru was not just a girl and more of a younger sister to her. She felt connected to her somehow.

And besides, she had known Hatori. She had known the post-Kana Hatori and that was something Kana dearly wantedfor herself.

The minutes stretched and Tohru lay, curled in Kana's arms. A clock kept time somewhere and the harsh ticking invaded their ears and felt so foreign and sacreligous that Kana felt in an instant of irrationality that she wanted nothing more than to rip it from whatever surface it was on and smash it to little pieces. However, she didn't, and the only whisper of her thoughts was a soft hiss and a small twitch of her wrist, nothing more.

 

* * *

 

Kazuma dabbed at his forehead as he made his way to the front door of the house that formerly belonged to Shigure but he had "inherited". He snorted at the thought.  _What a way to inherit a house_ , he thought bitterly. He had absolutely no want of this house. But he wouldn't sell it. He knew that already. He could see the future of this house as he placed his hand gently on the lintel: it would empty soon enough, the furniture covered in sheets like children for American Halloween, dust would coat it and it would disintegrate slowly until it was nothing but a memory and dust to build a graveyard on. Kazuma sighed and continued on into the hall. toward the stairs.

He was surprised when he reached the top to see to figures curled against the wall on the floor. Kana and Tohru. Kazuma swallowed, hesitant to aproach and disturb the two women, but feeling something short of a need to. He hated to wake them, he really did, but he had to know.  _What damage has been done here? What damage repaired?_  Tentatively, he touched the elder's shoulder. It was a gentle touch, but the flesh beneath his fingers jumped and flinched, liquid eyes fluttering open under dark lashes. "Kana-kun?"

She glanced at him and looked away. "She was in shock. I was only helping."

"I know." He held out a hand to help her up but she declined it with a shake of her head. "You should really get off the floor, at least. And Tohru should be resting in bed, not on the hard floor."

"I know," she said, looking down at the face in her arms, "But I just can't wake her. Not yet, Kazuma-san. I just...want to protect her a little longer."

He regarded her for a moment, retracting his hand slowly. "And what of Ayame-kun? What about  _him_?"

She looked at him then, and he could see it in her eyes, the possibility.  _The effects of their deaths could be permenant for him. He could be permenatly despondant. Permenatly lost._

_Permenatly alone._

"Where will he stay?" he asked quietly.  _Who should care for him if he remains locked in his memories?_  "I don't believe he should stay here, in this house."  _Not with these memories._

Kana nodded, shifting her weight slightly as she found a more comfortable position. The clock was still ticking and it sent a chill down her spine. "He can be cared for at the clinic until the shock wears off. After that, however... He can't stay there forever, Kazuma-san."

"I will take him then." And so, Ayame's fate was decided, and the man had no say in it, as so often happens in a tragedy. Kazuma sighed once more and continued toward Shigure's room, a room he had somewhat claimed, but only for the night. As he walked into the silent and dark room he felt no fear of ghosts. He knew, without the flicker of a doubt, that Shigure and Hatori were gone, and for good. And no Bon fire, or prayer from a left behind friend could ever bring them back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I'm amazed. I _finally_ finished the chapter! It's a miracle! In any case, Hana-kun, I have tried to remedy some of the things you mentioned, and capitalization for emphasis will come next. Please, forgive any spelling errors; microsoft word shut down on me so I wrote most of this on the edit page of FF.net, which does _not_ have spell check, or grammar check. Also, I had this story planned as a four chapter fic, but, with the arrival of Kyou and Tohru into it, it may end up as longer. However, it shouldn't change the end at all.
> 
> Please, as always, **_review!_**


	3. Only Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional Notes:** Hey, thanks for all the reviews! They made me feel better. (Looks at the last update-date and cringes) 2006? Ouch . . . three/four years. . . Wow. I am so sorry! I had some horrible Writer's Block, and was introduced to a new series, Naruto, which kinda stole my creativity for a while. I'm currently suffering another bout of that damned Writer's Block, but hopefully finishing off this chapter (which has been 2/3s of the way done for about three years now) will help. Well, enjoy.
> 
> For all intents and purposes, Shigure's study is on the second floor. Also, sorry about the ridiculously long wait—just be happy you get another chapter. You might notice that my style has somewhat changed since chapter two, but don't worry. I personally like to think it's gotten better. Tell me what you think.

The dead leaves crunched beneath his feet and snapped in the crisp air that seemed so dead and somehow held the smell of decay; he made his way back down the path toward the house would seem so different now, so unimaginably different. And yet the day was cool and chilly, the perfect autumn. The perfect day, with by far the most imperfect circumstances to its rise. He hardly spared the trees a glance as he passed beneath their outstretched arms. The leaves blazed red, silver crimson in the pale light and he ignored it all. Kyou felt completely numb, completely detached, although he was shaking. The woods seemed so inviting, but he had Tohru to care for, as it seemed that Yuki wouldn't even try. Some remnant of anger flickered at the edge of his mind, though it was weak and much outweighed—the rat had left her! But then, he could really expect no less of the damn selfish rat. He shook his head. What had happened, he wondered. Was it really true? Were they really… He stopped just short of the house and looked up, toward the window of the study. A howling wind was rushing in his ears now but above it all, he could still hear the leaves crack and hiss, almost as though they were being burned alive. He shuddered, tensing in cold, remembering Yuki's harsh, blunt, callous words.

" _Shigure . . . and Hatori . . . are dead."_

He swallowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening at the sickening, blunt quality of factuality that had been in those words. And the horrifying, acute finality that still echoed in him. He wanted to scream. He looked back at the door and then at the window. He hugged his middle, his thin yet strong arms tight around himself, as though he could squeeze all the pain, all the surrealism from himself, from the words. As though he could make them no more than fold-up paper-crane dreams that the wind could blow safely away, across some ocean or another. He bit his lip, hard, his orange hair falling into his eyes as he bent double—he couldn't do this again.  _It can't be real._  Yuki had lied! The mad thought crossed his mind with the force of lightening and he jolted free of his entanglement.  _I have to see them! I have to!_  Then he was running blindly, sprinting—unable to stop himself—to the back of the house, easily jumping from the ground to a tree branch and swinging himself up to another, going higher until he was level with the old shingles that had served as his bed before. He alighted on them as quietly as one can alight on shingles, and crept toward the window. He had to know. He was nearly on it now, the window, but he hesitated. He faltered, on the fringe of the abyss, and felt the doubt grow. What if it  _was_ true? What if they  _were_. . . What would he do?

He didn't know.

With a shudder, he sat down, hugging his knees to his chest. The trees swayed softly in a slight breeze and he watched the waves of flaming leaves. He couldn't, not yet. He could not face whatever truth lie in that cold room—and if it were the same as before, the same as his mother… He tensed, burying his head in his arms, his eyes shut to the thought, the bitterly painful memory he had tried so hard to forget. He struggled with a breath for a moment, trying to hold the wetness from it, until he finally released it and shuddered. No, he could not look yet—he wasn't sure he ever could. For now, he would sit and listen to the screams of the burning leaves.

 

* * *

 

Kana didn't know how long she sat there cradling the thin girl after Kazuma disappeared to Shigure's room, but slowly the ticking seemed to magnify and wash over her, smother her, and she swallowed dryly. She pulled the girl closer, aching for comfort herself. The girl was so warm, so  _alive_ , and Kana relished the feel—she was starving for the touch, for the mere contact of the living. Tohru groaned softly, her mahogany eyes flickering open, though they remained dull and clouded. Kana smiled waveringly, pushing the unending ticking to the back of her mind as she attempted to piece her image together for Tohru.

"How are you feeling?" Her voice was trained, schooled into some synthetic comfort that had the most unsettling affect on those who were not yet desperate enough to ignore their unease and she prided herself that it had hardly wavered.

Tohru shuddered, unconsciously pressing closer to what she believed to be a sturdy pillar, twining her fingers in the fabric of Kana's shirt. "Better," she whispered, nearly drowned out by the clocks. She was shaking horribly, but Kana stubbornly attributed that to cold and shock, and not something deeper and more devastating.

"Can you get up?" Kana smiled best she could to help the girl.  _To help yourself_ , hissed a cruel voice in the back of her mind—she shook it away and continued to smile faux-reassuringly. "It's not good to sleep on wood floors in a chilly hallway and I don't want you to catch cold."

Shivering, Tohru seemed so disoriented, so lost and helpless, that Kana felt the blood in her veins burn to comfort; somehow she managed to restrain herself, faintly realizing that the poor girl was not some helpless baby chick she had found on the side of the road—her blood burned all the same. Tohru shook her head sharply, clearing it somewhat. "I . . . I think so." The girl took the hand the elder offered and slowly rose to her feet, although unsteady. "Thank you, Onee-san."

She shook her head with a sigh. "Onee-san?" she muttered, "I guess I never did introduce myself. My name is Sohma Kana."

Tohru froze, her eyes wide. "K-Kana-san?" she whispered. "Hatori-san's Kana-san?"

A flicker of surprise and something green and wretched flickered through those liquid brown eyes. "You know— _knew_ —Hatori?" she asked, flinching at her necessary use of the past tense. Though, truly, she had been using past tense for neigh three years now, but that had only been in the somewhat safe confines of her own head.

The girl before her suddenly seemed so small and so big simultaneously as she nodded. "I knew him," she confirmed. "He was always to kind to me, and he always—he always . . . s-spoke so hi-highly of you . . . Kana-san. . ."

She broke off, something in her finally crumbling, collapsing under the pressure she had held for so long—long before this tragedy, Kana thought briefly before the flood. The tears did not start slow, but merely streamed quietly at first, before she began to cry in earnest. Kana pulled her close, feeling that small body shudder and shiver against hers; she closed her eyes, resting her head on Tohru's. "Hush, now," she whispered. "I'm here." Tohru whimpered, and Kana led her down the dim and desolate hallway to the guestroom, closing the door behind them. She sat on the downy bed, pulling the girl with her and holding her close.

Tohru cried, though she couldn't understand why. She knew that something had happened. She had understood Yuki's words perfectly when he had said Shigure and Hatori were dead, but that was as far as it went. She had still been asking herself what Shigure would want for supper that night—until this woman had forced her to use the past tense.  _Was._  Reality had disintegrated at that single word, those three letters.  _Was._  He wasn't an  _is_  anymore. They weren't  _there_  anymore. They weren't  _anywhere_  anymore. They had left her, they had abandoned her.

_Like Mom. . ._

"Oh God," she gasped, shuddering and clinging to Kana, her hands turning white as she gripped the fabric of the woman's shirt, "Oh God!  _They're dead!_ "

 _Gone! Gone like Mom, like Dad, like all those happy days in middle school—like my home. . ._ She choked on the tears in her throat and gagged on those that had managed to get in her mouth. Her face was wet and salty and stung but she did not stop. She simply couldn't. And some part of her mind wondered exactly why she was crying, why it even mattered.  _Yes,_  it said. _They are gone, but does it matter? They could have moved away, and little would be different—merely less tears and more resentment._  She forced the blaspheming voice to the farthest corner of her mind, horrified at its words and the small glimmer that could have been truth in them.

"Hush," murmured Kana, stroking Tohru's soft hair with skeletal fingers of sinew and bone and flesh. "It'll work out, somehow." She bit her lip, tasting the tang of her own metallic blood on her tongue. She had no idea what to say, what illusion to weave for this poor creature in her arms—or for herself. She held Tohru tighter as the clocks continued their merciless drumbeat.

 

* * *

 

He was panting quietly now as he looked at his handiwork. The tree that he had fallen against earlier was now sporting a rather noteworthy dent in its side, flecks of dark crimson against its pale off-white wick. He studied it for a long moment, ignoring the terrible ache that was beginning to grow in his hand, emanating from the torn and bleeding knuckles. He couldn't feel them—not really. To be honest, he couldn't feel much, and what little he  _did_  feel was too muted to be discernable from his inner emotions. All he could really hear was his blood rushing and roaring in his ears, and all he felt was cold and ice. A dead numbness. He fancied it was how dying felt, only somewhat less painful he supposed. It was a novel idea to him and he smiled sadly at the realization. It was nearly ludicrous enough to make him laugh. He shook his head.

He didn't know how long he had been out, away from that house—he didn't care. He knew it had been a while; the sun had begun to set. Soon, he would have to return. He knew they would be worried if he didn't, and some part of him—though perhaps deeply buried at the moment—did not like the idea of his dear Tohru worrying. However . . . a little longer couldn't possibly hurt and he wanted to stay. He had never noticed the forest at eventide and now he had a chance to see it, if only for a bit. He found he liked the sight. The trees were all awash in dull dusty grey-blue, everything beginning to drip crimson and gold from the dying rays of the sun. It was a beautiful, morbid sight to him and he let it fill him as he simply stared. He wondered if he had ever noticed how dead the forest seemed in the evenings, but looking back he could never recall. This was a new thing.

He left then, when he heard the life returning from that moment of death. He didn't want to hear life. He passed his garden without a glance—he didn't want to see the petty plants he had held above nearly everything. They were no better than weeds, really. The dirt on the road almost looked like blood, the color. Drying blood on old wood. He shuddered and continued, keeping his eyes carefully level and avoiding the ground. It seemed a small eternity before he even so much as heard the fuurin's gentle, out-of-place song on the chilled wind. The house came into view soon after. Yuki paused, marveling that the building still looked the same, that there were no bloodstains visible.  _But they're there, in that room. . ._  He closed his eyes and took a breath before continuing.

The door creaked slightly; the air of emptiness and despair was thick in the little house now. It was a wonder there was any light at all, but the dusty shafts of now-grey-blue light filtered through the windows and lay on the floor like corpses, cold and dead.  _Like them. . ._  His footsteps fell hollow and echoing in the bare hallway that seemed to stretch beneath his feet. He moved like a ghost toward the stairs until a thin voice stopped him.

"Yuki-kun?" He turned his head slightly to the side; Tohru was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her hands clenched at her chest, her eyes wide and red from crying and Kyou was nowhere in sight. It seemed the stupid cat hadn't done his job.  _Hypocrite._  "Where. . ." Her eyes widened, fixed on his hands. "Yuki-kun! Your hands!"

He barely felt anything anymore as he looked down. His knuckles were still bleeding sluggishly, the blood dripping to the floorboards beneath him. He smiled inwardly. Now the house really would be covered in blood.  _As it should be._  He nearly laughed at the thought but all that escaped his lips was a sigh. "I'm fine Tohru." It was hardly appeasing to the young girl, but he couldn't really bring himself to care.

"Yuki. . ."

He turned away. "I'm going to bed. Don't bother calling me for dinner; I'm not hungry." He knew she continued to watch him with wide eyes as he climbed the stairs without another word.

 

* * *

 

He felt stiff, statue-like and petrified, so terrified. All around, he could still hear the screams. The sun had gone and all was dark, but he could still hear the leaves burning to death in the cold. Kyou could feel himself shivering, his skin crawling, as his stomach knotted itself over and over. It seemed to be crawling into his psyche underneath his skin, into the black edges of his mind. Cold blackness—he couldn't see anymore. He didn't wonder at it. He didn't dare to think on it. He felt as though his skin was filled with ice, every cell with spears and needles of frozen liquid crystal. The cold went deeper than his skin though, beyond all physical, past all he could name. It was like his mother's death again and yet different—infinitely different—and so painful, dismembering.

 _Gone. . . They're gone._ He shuddered, pulling his limbs closer in mock comfort. The wind still managed to seep through to his bones. So cold here, alone. A voice in the back of his mind whispered of the warmth he'd find inside. The window was so close. It wouldn't be difficult to slip inside, to see what had happened, to see if it was true. The cold only seemed to make this all the more inviting, and the chill murmured into his ears that maybe, just maybe, this was all a joke—that Shigure and Hatori were simply waiting in the room, one of the dog's twisted and sick jokes. Kyou could catch him in the act, beat his ass for worrying Tohru (not him, of course not, why would he care about the stupid dog?). . .

His limbs moved almost without his permission, unfolding and stretching, hands grasping at the shingles, pushing up until he was standing slanted on the roof, and he was moving then. Closer and closer to the window and to the truth, whatever it may be. The movement was practiced, old. He could do it in his sleep, probably, if he cared to try; it was because of all the late nights he would spend on the roof, and when it would become far too cold to sleep with any comfort, he would sneak in through the window in the study so he wouldn't wake anyone. How many times had Shigure still been awake when he did so? How many times had he chided him, or made some jab or another? It was unfathomable that he would never do so again—too  _impossible_ —

A rush of air in his ears, and the feeling of weightlessness just before his feet touched the tatami floor. The room was dark, quiet and there was a sense of something—something that was wrong. So horridly wrong. He could feel his airways constricting, tightening like a noose around his windpipe and he closed his eyes.  _Inhale, exhale, inhale, breathe. . ._  He opened them again, finding it still too dark to see anything much. He moved carefully, following the wall to the light (he didn't want to trip on whatever stacks of books Shigure had laying around, or so he told himself). It was smooth to the touch, cool, when he found it and he hesitated.  _Last chance._

A drawn-in breath—

—the switch made a quiet  _click_  as the lights turned on and Kyou felt, heard it as the cocking of a gun, loud to his ears. Still, white was the only color he could see, his eyes still to the wall, forehead nearly resting against it. If he turned. . .he didn't know what he would see, didn't know what would happen. Didn't know if the world really would shatter—like he'd seen a mirror break before, seen the pieces glitter as they hit the ground with razor sharp edges.

_God, such a coward—just look!_

Slow turn, extension of muscles, a moment of confusion before the realization sank through the fog, before air ceased to exist.

There were no bodies, but there was an answer all the same in the dark blood that stained the tatami—far too much to be a superficial wound. Kyou backed against the wall, half slumping against it as he dragged a breath in, shaking and rattling down his throat.

 _It was true. . .God, it was true. . ._ He couldn't move and neither, it felt, could the clocks.

"Kyou?"

He almost didn't feel the gentle hand on his shoulder, almost didn't hear his name called, until Kazuma attempted to guide him from the room. He jerked out of his stupor, pulling back, his spine against the wall again, and eyes wide and on his faux-father. "Sh-shishou. . ."

For his part, Kazuma's face remained impassive, nearly; he did not release Kyou. "Calm down," he murmured. "What are you doing up here?"

Kyou looked away, swallowing. His eyes were drawn inexorably to the stains on the floor, and the image they presented of what had happened. "I wanted— _had_   _to_ see if. . .if what the rat said was t-true." His voice was quiet, cowed and still colored with shock and strained as it was forced out past his stomach which felt as though it was lodged in his throat now.

"It's all right, Kyou, but you shouldn't be in here." He paused, following the boy's gaze. His arms were strong and firm as he pulled his son into them, and Kyou's face turned to hide from the scene in the familiar folds of Kazuma's yukata. For now, he needed the comfort—he could be strong later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** So. Yes, it has been forever. I dunno if I'll continue this, but who knows. As is, life is mildly hectic, and will probably be so for the next year or two. Maybe. Study abroad for a year and whatnot. But all that aside, I hope you at least enjoy the chapter!


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